Wicked Game
by Shakuhachi Jade
Summary: Playing games. He and I are always playing games… A Bakura-centric drabble. One-shot. YYxYB. Darkshipping. Rated for coarse language & descriptive sexual situations.


**Dislcaimer:** I do not own Yami, Yami Bakura, or anything _Yu-Gi-Oh!_ related, nor do I own HIM's cover of "Wicked Game" (which is what I listened to for inspiration for this story). This work is purely fan-written for entertainment purposes ONLY.

_[Author's Note: Hello everyone! I seem to have finally finished this drabble I've been working on for months – complete with __**graphic yaoi**__ goodness (you don't like, don't read), a __**Bakura-centric**__ plot line (as usual), and plenty of __**first-person/present-tense**__ narrative to go around (with Darkshipping everywhere you look). Thank you for stopping by, and please enjoy.]_

-;-;-;-

**The world was on fire, no one could save me but you  
>It's strange what desire will make foolish people do<br>No, I (don't) wanna fall in love…with you  
>(This world is only gonna break your heart)<strong>

- - "Wicked Game" by Chris Isaak/HIM

* * *

><p>I do so love the night. Well…that is to say if a heart as black as mine can feel anything at all. Lately I just feel zombie-like, numb – like I'm going about my day in a trance without ever really knowing or caring what I'm doing. Until the sun falls that is – <em>then<em> I truly awaken. In the night I feel alive again, reborn beneath the gauze blue clouds silhouetted by a full moon.

I sit here on the couch beneath my den's main window staring up into a faded, empty, navy sky. With a small sigh, I unclasp the lock and push the window open. There is a light breeze; it's summertime in Japan, pleasant, mild.

But I miss the endless black nights of Egypt, nights speckled with pin drops of stars and an openness that swallows the universe, nights as cold as the arctic – my home…

Ah…but what is 'home' anyway? _Is _Egypt really my home? The home of my sinful parents – deviants in their own right, who were selfishly murdered for completely different deviant reasons; my original birthplace of sand and savages…home…?

No. I would not call that place home. My parents probably never would have loved me as they should have anyway. It was too early to tell back then; I was merely an infant who knew nothing about the blistered, callous world when they died. Who am I to judge my parents? But still…

Looking up at the night sky now, I wonder. I am confused as to why my destiny was charted out like it was – why, of all the ways to go and all the people to meet…? Why was I sent here? Why am I forced to reenact those moments of the distant past here, in the future, with that insolent pharaoh? Why me, a slave, a thief, a filthy dog, a meaningless existence to that of a holy prince, a _god_? Why would that god have anything to do with myself? So again I ask the starlit sky aloud – "_Why _am I here?"

Of course only the wind answers me. And it is not a silent wind, oh no – there are many sounds in a city, like cars and buses passing by, horns and sirens and people talking by my window occasionally. These sounds never cease – not in daylight, and not at night. I miss the silence of the desert. In the silence I had endless ages to clear my thoughts and to meditate. Here, I get mere seconds before the silence is quickly interrupted by one thing or another. Bah! Cities… I never liked cities. Not even the ancient cities: Cairo, Alexandria… Sure I loved to pilfer and pick pockets, but more than that I preferred the silence of the desert, the whispering of the wind, the heavy suppressing air of the tombs I raided, the openness, and the freedom. I am suffocating here.

But I suppose this is my home now, if a home is indeed simply where you reside. I live in an apartment in Tokyo, not too far from the second branch of that little brat's Game Shop, actually. I earn my money now by working as a fish cook in the Tsukiji Central Wholesale Market (although I sometimes pick pockets just for old time sake). I take walks on seas of pavement and go out to restaurants to eat. I read modern books and watch modern television and talk the modern talk all day long. I don't talk to other people unless I have to, though, because modernity absolutely infuriates me. Truly, I hate it here. But I manage. This world isn't so different from the one I came from. In fact life here could even be called leisurely compared to what I had and what I had to do to get by in my past life.

Obviously I still feel like I am missing something. (Not even stealing satisfies me anymore, though it did for a while.) I believe it's connection – human connection. And I'm not talking about small talk. I still "talk" to Ryou about once a month when he stops by to check up on me. But now that we've been physically parted into two separate entities our initial connection has faded somewhat. We actually have very little in common, and since I can't really _use_ him anymore he's not really of any use _to_ me. I suppose it's cute that he still cares enough to stop by.…sort of.

I mean a real connection! I feel like I've done everything one could possible do in two lifetimes– more than everything! –yet here I am, craving for more out of it. It's silly right? Probably…but _that_ is why I've become a zombie. _That_ is why this life bores me, why I long for my past life so earnestly. Could that be why I long for the night as well? Could it really be so simple? All I need is something (or someone) to connect with…?

Naturally the first things that come to mind are the things from my past: the night, the stars, the tombs, the quiet…

…the pharaoh…

I could ask myself why again, but I don't bother. Asking the same rhetorical question over and over again is ridiculous; in fact I might _never_ find out why the two of us were sent here, why we're doomed to be rivals for centuries on end. There might have been a reason, and there might not have been. The point is that he _is_ here – a real connection to my past, right here in the future.

Should I talk to him? I think not. It's certainly not in my nature to suddenly make friends with my bitterest rival. Should I find a way to make him talk to me? Well, that's a possibility.

It'd been so long since I last tapped into the dark and mystic powers of the shadow realm that I wasn't entirely sure I still could. Once Atem had defeated Zorc and me in our final shadow game, he determined that it was best to destroy the millennium items for good (a wise decision). But even without the Sennen Ring, I quickly found that I could still grasp the outer limits of its endless power. (After using so much shadow magic throughout the whole of my existence it pretty much became a _part_ of me.)

I take a moment to send my mind back down that dark, forbidden path, and I begin to feel a familiar trickle of black magic. Oh, what an addictive substance… It shouldn't take Atem very long to sense that I had tapped into it.

Within the minute, he is crouched like a panther – sleek in black leather – on my windowsill, ready to use that same black magic against me should I attempt anything dangerous. I chuckle softly. "That was fast."

See, Yami hadn't destroyed _all_ of the millennium items… He had claimed it was because of the need to protect those he loved, but I knew better. I always did. See, I know everything there is to know about darkness. I've pushed my soul to the very outer limits of hell, and come back nearly unscathed…

Sensing where my mind was taking me, I quickly put those thoughts aside for now.

"What are you up to, thief? I thought I destroyed–"

I stand up casually from the couch in front of the window. Yami is silenced instantly even by such a subtle movement from me. I can feel the electricity crackling throughout the room and buzzing in my veins. His presence evokes long buried feelings within me: jealously, rage, insanity, hate, rivalry, amusement, even admiration. For so long I'd gone without speaking to _any_ of them, save for Ryou; I'd felt it was for the best before, but now…

Feeling the spur of excitement from merely toying with Atem – provoking the fear of his friends' lives being in danger – was exhilarating. My heart begins to race and I grin broadly. His eyes, rimmed in purple-black kohl, are soulless and glowing in the dimness, as I know mine are. The shadow magic in both of us is rapidly rising.

"Is that any way to greet someone whose house you just broke into?"

Yami says nothing and remains still as a statue on the windowsill. A faint glow begins to appear around his entire body now instead of just his eyes. I chuckle again at his paranoia and relinquish what little hold I had on the shadow magic; that tiny bit had been as much as I could hold anyway. Waving him off, I head towards the kitchen and ask over my shoulder if he'd like a beer.

"Stop this foolishness at once and tell me what you're up to, fiend!" He jumps into my den with an agile cat-like grace, still cautious, every nerve on his body humming with a force like that of a struck blade. "I knew you were still a cretin, simply hiding in wait for the first opportunity to reclaim the power you once had… I won't have it, Bakura! I will seal you away for all eternity where you can never do harm again to another soul for as long as you live if you even _think_ about—"

"Who said anything about souls or power, old _friend_?" I call from the kitchenette. "I was just sitting in my own home, aimlessly watching the sky before I went to sleep, when you so unceremoniously decided to break in unannounced."

"Your window was open."

"So that gives you permission to hop right in? Honestly, I expected a bit more _tact_ from a great Pharaoh of Egypt."

"Silence! I know that you tapped into your shadow powers just now. How, I haven't the faintest –"

I snort as I come back into the den holding two Asahi Blacks. "You don't _know_? Oh, come on… My soul was melded with the most ancient, vile demon of all time for three thousand years, and you tell me that you don't know how I did it." I smile at his disgusted expression. "You shouldn't think so highly of your_self_, your…ah, highness. I've sensed _you_ using the dark magic on several occasions already. More than I can count on two hands, actually!" Effortlessly I bite the bottle cap off of one beer using my own teeth. "Ever since I left your lot of ingrates over a year ago, I gave all that up to live a normal life for a while. So don't sound like you're so much better than me, you pompous ass!"

"Lies! All lies!"

"So says the liar…"

Yami's eyes narrow in a feeble attempt to bore holes through my skull by glaring. They narrow even further when I proffer the unopened beer to him. "What's this?"

"I brought you one anyway. Thought you could stand to loosen up a little."

"Hmm…" He snatches the bottle from my hand and still yet uses a tiny bit of dark magic to snap the metal cap off. "Then I suppose I am an _invited_ guest now?"

"You can stay, or go if you want. I don't really care either way." _It's not like I lured you here or anything…_ I can't seem to stop chuckling tonight. "You've apparently made yourself at home regardless."

Yami doesn't reply, and doesn't say anything else for quite a while after that. He does make himself comfortable in the chair adjacent to the couch and sips lightly on his beer, a pondering, awkward look adorning his regal features. His eyes are still alight with ready fire, but his demeanor seems slightly less guarded now.

To break the horrible atmosphere, I say to no one in particular, "I wonder what it would be like to go home?"

I can instantly feel Yami's interest pique, but he is too stubborn to say it. I'm forced to elaborate more when the only conversation he gives me is soft breathing. "I don't mean just visit. I mean, really go there – back to our birthplace, back to the time period we belong in… Do you ever feel like you don't belong here Atem?"

When I glance at him I see his eyes fly downward, refusing to meet my own. "Atemu?" I ask again, this time more pointedly directing my question at him. I take a seat across from him on the arm of the couch.

"I…" he pauses one more time, unsure of whether he should even be talking to me at all, no doubt. "…sometimes," he whispers. His downcast gaze is trained solely on the bottle in his hand now. "I miss my father, my friends, my people and my way of life. I…had the chance to go back, you know. After I defeated you, before we retrieved you from limbo..."

My eyes widen a bit. "Seriously? …so why didn't you?"

"I have made many new friends here, too. I can forget about the homesickness when the cavities of my heart are filled up with the love and friendship of my new home."

_Love…?_ Now there's a word I try to stay away from if at all possible. I liked the way he said that though; the cavities of my heart… Did Yami love someone?

"Must be nice then," I mumble indifferently, also taking several swigs from my own bottle.

"Bakura, if you've known for a while now how to use shadow magic without the Ring, then why haven't you…?"

I let his sentence trail off into nothingness with a raised brow. "Maybe a…Change of Heart?" I grin again. I don't really know why I'm being so cheeky tonight, but whatever it is, I like it. I feel kind of free-floating – weightless and whimsical. I don't think I've ever felt 'whimsical' before; it's too fluffy of a word for me. But it's not altogether unpleasant.

It could just be the Asahi…

Yami glares at me again, already back to his prejudices. "Like a devil such as you could ever change his ways. As I said, I knew it would only be a matter of time before you showed your true self again! You were planning something awful when I arrived here. I know it!"

"Well, I did wait three thousand some odd years to get my chance to _kill_ you, didn't I? I suppose it's not really that unreasonable to think that merely one year – _completely _on my own_,_ without _any_ major crimes committed – was just passing time for my next grand scheme. I could see that."

"You're mocking me."

"Yes, I am." Why can't I stop grinning?

"Why?"

"Because for once you've got it all wrong, pharaoh, and I find it entirely too amusing. For once, I'm really not in it for the gold or the riches, the souls or the shadow powers, or your very lifeblood on my hands – no, for a change I simply want to live life for a while, something I was never able to do before because of my tumultuous upbringing. And I know you must find that extremely hard to believe, but look who's laughing? Think about it; living is the only thing I haven't done yet."

"You haven't loved yet."

I suddenly feel the cheeky grin slide sideways on my face. There it is again, that blasted word…

"Figs for love. I don't believe in it."

He thinks he has the upper hand now, so he plows on, "But you know as well as I do, Bakura, that you can _choose_ not to believe in love just as well as I can choose not to believe that you have given up on the sins of your past. I happen to know that love does exist, and I'm willing to give you a chance. I certainly know that having gone through such a tumultuous upbringing, you've surely never felt it, and everyone deserves a chance to."

"Ridiculous! Even if I admit it exists, why would I even want to love anything? Or be loved, for that matter? I don't even _like_ people. How in the name of sweet Hathor can someone who doesn't even like to like people feel a stronger emotion such as love?"

I don't really know how our discussion became so quickly centered on the philosophy of love, but the conversation is a nice change of pace from my usual silent night walk or book reading. I almost feel like I'm enjoying myself, talking sort of friendly-ish to my mortal enemy.

Instead of answering me verbally, Atem sets down his bottle of Asahi and strides toward me with the confidence of an ancient king – the kind of confidence only _he_ can have. Of course, just like the petty thief I am, I cower for a moment under his brilliance and forget myself. The look on his face could not be described as anything but regal compassion. There was no denying this presence.

After a second, though, I regain my composure and challenge him with my eyes. What the hell is he up to? What wicked game is he playing at? More importantly, what am _I_ playing at? Playing games. He and I are _always _playing games…

He leans me onto the couch using one hand to lead me down, pressing my back firmly into the cushions with his lithe frame hovering just inches over mine. His eyes have a husky, ruddy color in the moonlight – like the garnet jewels I so loved to steal. His lips are curved ever so slightly into a small smile that is not sadistic in any way, shape, or form. His stance is almost gentle.

"Take off your shirt," he whispers.

"What…the hell are you doing, Yami?"

"Call me Atemu, please…and as your king, you must do as I command."

I glare at him. That demeanor of his is the main reason he seems just as mature as me, when in reality he's about five to six years my junior. His commanding presence never allows for someone like me to have full control though, not even for a moment. Not in dueling, and not…not right now, apparently.

"Heh," I laugh a bit, trying to shake off how nervous I suddenly feel, "you weren't even my king back then, you fool. I was a tomb robber – a nomad. What makes you think I _ever_ recognized you as—"

Yami's hands fly under my shirt and pull it up and over my head faster than a sidewinder's bite. He's already tossed it aside before I even have the chance to realize what he's done.

And like lightning, I shove him off of me and into the floor.

"The hell was that?" I say.

He falls gracefully, like he had expected me to react that way, and he's still smiling. Cocky bastard… My heart is racing.

"You didn't like that?" he says softly. He is amused at my undoubtedly mortified expression. Honestly, I'm quite speechless at this point. Who in the seven Hells does he think he is anyway, undressing me like that?

"You just surprised me is all…" I mumble. "How should I know that you weren't trying to finish me off just now? Heavens know I've tried to kill _you_ enough times…"

"Maybe because of the…_mood_…?" Yami says, putting special emphasis on the word 'mood.' I stay quiet for a while, and he just lays there in the floor staring up at me. Eventually he removes his own shirt (really now?) and leans back on his elbows, thrusting that lightly tanned abdomen of his upward slightly, watching me with those red, red eyes. I can't say that I don't enjoy the sight before me, and the look in his eyes… What a rush he gives me…

"Alcohol makes you horny, doesn't it?" I ask.

He scrunches up his perfectly sloped nose, still grinning at me like damned fool. "Are we to play a Questions Game, then?"

I feel a slow grin start to form on my face as well because I see where he is going with this. "Why not?" I reply, chuckling softly.

"Should I start?" He pushes himself back up off the floor into a sitting position next to me on the couch. I can feel the warmth from his body so near my own, and the air in the room is like fire.

I chug down the rest of my beer in a happy frenzy and reply, "Were the pyramids built in Egypt?" smacking my lips and sending my own heated gaze in his direction.

Yami takes a deep breath. "May I make love to you?"

I chuckle again; the Asahi has given me a nice buzz. "Why in the seven hells would you want to do _that_?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Will you play fair then?"

"Don't I always play fair?" he says, leaning his head onto my shoulder. His hair smells clean, freshly washed. I waste no time in burying my face into it.

"Then may I _fuck the shit_ out of you afterwards?" I ask. At this point I thought we were still just playing a game.

Yami runs one of his hands up and down my bare chest, taking his sweet time especially when he gets too close to my waistline. He still feels so warm, and my head feels so fuzzy... I don't think it's the booze either. One beer is hardly enough to get me drunk; I'd need at least five. No… The _real_ buzz I feel is most certainly because of him. "Would you like to flip a coin for it?" he whispers.

"Sure," I whisper back. Game over.

But even though I'd effectively ended our question game (that he won, of course), I'd begun another one – a game of chance.

I wish someone had told me. How could I have possibly known that what I had been searching for all year long was right under my nose this entire time? Connection… Holy Ra, I haven't felt so wonderful since our final duel in the shadow realm so long ago. My blood hasn't pumped so fast since I _lost_ that duel… I don't know anything about this "love" business, but I certainly know that I missed playing games with my arch enemy. Yes, I believe I've missed this particular piece of my past very, very much…

Using shadow magic yet _again_, Yami summons an ancient Egyptian coin with a falcon on one side and the face of a Pharaoh (not him, thankfully) on the other. "I suppose I'll call 'falcon' since I can't very well call 'pharaoh' with you sitting here…"

Yami laughs and then deftly sends the coin spinning in the air directly above us. It falls easily back into his hand where he then flips it over onto the top of his other hand. He looks at me. "You…are being serious, aren't you?"

I roll my eyes. "Just show me the damn coin, you."

He nods, looking preciously precarious, and removes his hand, glancing down at the coin which was facing…

Pharaoh.

Shit.

"Hm, that's interesting…" he mumbles, the very slightest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth in typical Yami fashion.

"Interesting _bullshit_, if that's what you mean! Best two outta three—"

"I asked you outright if you were serious about this, Bakura!"

"I _am_ serious, I just… Bah! That was _clearly_ a cheap trick – summoning the coin using shadow magic so you could tamper with it!"

Yami shakes his head. "It was not tampered with Bakura; I wouldn't have asked you if you were serious about this if it was, because it could have very well landed the other way. Then _I _would be the one about to take it up th—"

"ALL RIGHT! Fine! …Fine. So you top. What now?"

Yami smiles brilliantly again at the bluntness in my voice. (He could have been smiling at the bluntness straining my jeans as well, at that point…) "Now…" He says softly, "I get to lay you down here, with me, onto the couch…like this…"

Holy _Ra_. I can't believe I'm enjoying this. I can't believe that the tone in his voice is actually turning me on… I can't believe I'm about to let my rival fuck me. Fuck, have I lost my mind? Maybe… Maybe I'm just desperate – for attention and placement and that one, special piece of my past that holds everything I've been longing for… Maybe somewhere in the back of my mind I'm hoping that sharing this experience with Yami (regardless of who's on top) will fulfill me in a way that nothing else I've tried thus far can.

I feel Yami's teeth nibble at the base of my neck, and I can smell the faint trace of alcohol on his breath that his wet kisses leave behind, can see the muscles at the base of his own neck readjust every time he moves his head to taste a different spot on my skin… It doesn't take long at all for my breathing to quicken, especially when Yami's hands start to grope down my sides and over my stomach. His skin is not only warm, but _burning_ against my own now. My eyes roll back several times when his hands stray too close to my growing arousal. He is teasing me on purpose.

"Pharaoh…" I murmur against his hair.

"Hmm? What?" he mumbles. His voice is muffled from being buried in the crook of my neck.

"…nothing, never mind…"

I had almost asked him what he thought of love, and whether or not he could ever love me… I kind of want to know if he's already _in_ love with anyone at the moment, if maybe he recently professed that love. Maybe his present actions toward me are merely a rebound of being dejected. Or maybe he's been holding in his love, and by now it's so pent up that it simply exploded in the manner of…this. Maybes, maybes; life is so full of maybes… I'm too much of a coward to ask.

He continues his ministrations, caressing me like I really am his lover, and I'm quick to get lost in those subtle touches, my eyes fluttering like a hummingbird's wings and my mind drifting into a blissful, half-awake state. What can I say though? It isn't every day that I get touched like that. And now that I think about it, I haven't really felt this way in several millennia, not since the time of our past – and back then I was much too busy killing and pillaging to have sex. Don't get me wrong, I _did_ it, but it was a rare instance. Even now, I haven't done it since I received my own body again, which meant…which _means_ I technically have a second virginity, of sorts.

…Well huh. Yami is one lucky son of a bitch, then. I chuckle aloud because of the direction my thoughts had taken.

He whispers quickly into my ear, voice thick and serious. "Are you really sure you want to…?"

I roll my eyes. "Would I have let you get this far if I didn't?" He nods and makes to suck on my earlobe using lips moist with desire. I'm content to let him play however he wants to, because right now I feel _good_. And believe me when I say feeling good feels pretty _damn_ good after feeling so shitty for so long…

"If you're sure," Yami says, still whispering.

I chuckle again, giddy. "You don't have to be so…soft….with me, you know."

"I know, but it drives you crazy," he replies. His words are nearly unintelligible at this point. Even with his face still buried in the crook of my neck and his voice muffled, I could still hear the smile on his lips.

Something suddenly occurs to me. "Are _you_ okay with this?" I ask, grabbing his chin and making him look up at me. I'm being serious, though he looks rather amused. His lids lay heavy over his eyes – those large, half-red, half-violet depths that never fail to pierce me to my core, lashes as thick and dark as a woman's. Fuck, does he always have to seem so goddamn _knowing_? It's like he's looking into my mind…

"I'm fine," he mumbles in reply, grinning, slowly moving forward. It seems to take an eternity for his nose to brush mine. When it finally does, my heart is beating so fast that I panic. "Yami—" I start to say, mildly alarmed, but he snakes his hand around the back of my neck, instantly quieting me.

"Ssshh," he whispers, and pulls me into a kiss. My breath hitches in my throat when his lips finally connect with mine, and I close my eyes to try to stifle a groan. The noise escapes against Yami's mouth anyway, and he makes an approving 'mmmm' sound in return. Our bare chests become pressed together, one heart beating next to another. We scramble to become closer to one another.

I'm faintly aware of a dull ache, throbbing first in my heart as we kiss, half-splayed on top of each other on my couch, but spreading quickly throughout my entire body – a deliciously painful yearning that I have _never_ felt before in my entire life, not in this body nor any other. I'm also faintly aware that my mind was just blown.

"Atem," I breathe his ancient Egyptian name against his lips when he finally pulls away. He shivers against me.

"What have you done to me?" he asks, a very slight accusatory note in his tone. He's shaking.

"_Me_?" I reply, laughing a bit, still slightly nervous for some reason. "Are you blind? How could I have possibly done anything just now, as paralyzed as I was against your kiss?"

"Liar! I did not sense it, but you had to have… Had to have done _something_! I can't…"

When he doesn't say anything more, I try prompting him. "Can't what?" I try to make my expression concerned, but it probably just looks condescending... Still, Yami gives one shake of his head. "What is it?" I ask again, gently smoothing my hand against his lower back to caress it soothingly.

"You," he says, still speaking so softly that I almost don't catch his words. "Something about _you_…"

Before I have the chance to make another inquiry, he does something that makes my hot blood run cold. I feel it instantly, as I am forever attuned to such things of dark nature, but knowing it doesn't make it any less terrifying. Yami opens himself up completely to the shadow, taking in so much of it that my teeth actually chatter a bit from shock.

"You hypocrite," was all I had the chance to say before he melted away the rest of my clothes using harmless dark flames, flickering indigo and ebony.

"Now you do it," he commands.

"Wha—?"

"_Do it._"

One does not argue with one's Pharaoh when he uses a tone like that. Lying naked underneath him, I, too, open up my veins to the shadow magic, feeling its hunger and its vile taint like a living thing inside of me. I couldn't take in nearly as much as he had, of course, but what I could take in was enough. I let it ebb and flow to my command before bursting his remaining attire into flames as well.

"How do you do it?" he asks.

"Do what?" When he doesn't reply immediately, I roll my eyes at him. "Yami, I'm no mind reader. You were the one who destroyed the Items in the first place, remember? Well, all except for _yours_ of course." Yami blanches at me. "What? You didn't think I wouldn't find out you'd kept the Puzzle, did you? How _else_ could you use so much shadow magic without killing yourself? Idiot. Anyone who'd used the items before would have known you'd kept the Puzzle the second you took in that first big swell, back in November. Now…how do I do what?"

Yami remains quiet for a while longer, and so do I for fear that he'll leave, or maybe conjure up something to kill me with before I can retaliate. Eventually he says, "Control the _want_ of it…"

I laugh. I outright laugh at him. "Well, that's easy. You took away my outlet, Yami; the main means of controlling it in the first place was the Ring, so what I do now is simply what I've always been able to do. I can't…can't exactly control how much I want it. It is pretty addictive, hm?"

"Oh yes…" Yami candidly stares into my eyes. He looks terrifying and beautiful, darkness swirling behind his lids. "It is."

"But I guess I can control it better now that I don't have the Ring. I can't take in nearly as much as I could before, so I suppose it no longer affects me as much."

Yami stares at me for another short moment before he relinquishes his shadow powers. I smile proudly up at him.

"So? Are you going to do this, or not?" I ask.

That's all it took. As per usual, it's a challenge that brings us together. I had just challenged his will, and he would not under any circumstances surrender it to me. (Not until I'd surrendered first, anyway.)

And so yet another game begins.

Slowly Yami lowers himself back down on top of me, our bodies pressed and tangled endlessly together there on the couch. He makes sickeningly sweet sounds as I start to pet and caress him, trailing my fingers lazily over the most sensitive areas of his body. He seems to be a very vocal lover. I hope he doesn't get discouraged when I don't react the same way; noises just aren't my thing, and I have a particularly hard enough time as it is expressing how I feel. It's not in my nature to show what pleases me – vocally, visually, or otherwise. So I continue to pet him.

Words are useless at this point, and time is irrelevant. To be quite honest, I'm a little lost as to why he is even still here. I would have never expected the likes of _him_ to be moaning in my arms after an hour or two of conversation and the initial task of getting over being awkward with each other. As I take his cock in my hand and gently brush the pad of my thumb over his tip, I smear the dab of precum gathered there in soft rhythmic circles. Yami's eyes flash in the semi-darkness and though his breath is coming in short, strained pants now, he seems completely aware of what I'm doing.

"S-stop," he says, trying to use his commanding tone again. He almost succeeds, too, but I ignore the command.

"Why?" I ask. My own voice has grown ragged from the heat and the disuse of it. I gently grab his right hand and bring his fingertips up to my lips, where I first kiss each one in turn. Then I take two of his digits into my mouth, swirling my tongue around them again and again. Yami moans again.

"Stop!" he says more forcefully this time. I stop, and I look at him.

"What is it?"

"We can't do this."

"Um…weren't you the one who just—"

"Yes, but…! Okay, fine… _I _can't do this."

For once, I'm a tad bit shocked. "So you're…forfeiting?" I ask hesitantly. I hate how my voice sounds so disappointed. Yami shouldn't be allowed any glimpses into the inner-workings of my mind (or my heart).

But all he does is nod. The look in his eyes has suddenly shifted from maniacal glee to guarded, blank walls, and at first I'm not entirely sure why. So much for a challenge.

So much for trying to rediscover a little piece of home again…

It's not only my voice that seems disappointed; my entire body is now slouched and slumped with displeasure, and I don't doubt that it's writ all over my face as well. What the hell just happened?

We part from each other almost as awkwardly as we were when he first intruded into my humble abode. His expression is damn near the same as it was earlier, too… He quickly conjures up some clothes, whereas I simply summon some of my own from my bedroom, and we dress silently, not daring to look at one another. I sigh a lot. He doesn't make a sound.

Once we're both dressed, he finally says, "This was an…interesting evening,"

I shoot him a look that hopefully conveys everything I've wondered about tonight – why he stopped what we were doing just now, why he brought up love earlier, why he came here at all, really; what could have happened between us, what will happen now, when he'll be back, _if_ he'll be back, what I've been searching for – _longing_ for… I let the vast uncertainty paint my face like a portrait. And I let him see it.

"Bakura, listen," he says softly, "There are things in this world we are not meant to understand – things that are the way they are just because…just because they _are_. I think….that this is one of those things. We are the way we are, simply because we are. And that's precisely how we'll stay."

I open my mouth to argue with him but he holds up his hand and closes his eyes in an expression filled with quite a bit of pain and regret, and I suddenly snap my mouth closed again. "Don't. Just don't."

"I'm sorry," I whisper. I open my palms and start to lift my hands in a helpless gesture. I don't know what I'm apologizing for.

"That's not like you," he whispers back. When I look at him again, the walls are still there but there's a challenging fire underlying in his stance again. I narrow my eyes suspiciously. "To seriously apologize for anything, I mean. If you're getting all soft on me I might not have to come back and check up on you. I won't have any reason to keep you out of trouble."

I still feel totally helpless and lost, but at least he's giving me something to work with now. I laugh bitterly. "Don't get used to it, _pharaoh_. After all, it's not like you can keep me from using what I've always had. And besides, I'm not the one with an _addiction_, am I?"

For a second, I swear he's going to grin. I _want_ him to. But he doesn't. He just stares at me, then nods as though he's accepted some direly important quest. Maybe he has.

"I'll be keeping an eye on you," he murmurs. I scoff.

"You better keep them both on me! You're pissing me the fuck off."

He turns away from me and leaps theatrically back onto my still-opened window sill. He only gives me one last glance over his shoulder before he jumps down into the street. I hear his footsteps clacking on the sidewalk, and I know for a fact that he is unharmed. I sensed his shadow magic the second I saw his eyes when he turned around. They were dark and soulless.

With a sigh that far oversteps the bounds of melodrama, I make my way back over to the window and look up into the night sky. Such a pale, lifeless sky, bleached out by too many city lights and traffic smog and…and the faint orange glow of the sun on the horizon. It's almost morning. I hadn't noticed.

* * *

><p><em>[AN: Please let me know what you thought of this one-shot. It was written solely as a writing exercise to practice first-person present-tense narrative, but I would LOVE some feedback on how you thought I did. Other constructive comments are also well appreciated. Thanks for reading!]_

_~;~Shaku_


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